Basket of Figs
by HotpantsHeather
Summary: He wanted to spill her, like a glass of wine. Turn her over, like a basket of figs. Rated M for...well you know. Integra X Alucard one shot. Read and Review please.


This is not exactly what I wanted it to be, but it turned out alright I guess. Integra and Alucard sexyness. Enjoy.

Hellsing ain't mine.

* * *

_Bring me your pain, love. Spread it out like fine rugs, silk sashes, warm eggs, cinnamon_

_and cloves in burlap sacks. Show me the detail, the intricate embroidery on the collar, tiny shell buttons, the hem stitched the way you were taught, pricking just a thread, _

_almost invisible. Unclasp it like jewels, the gold still hot from your body. Empty your _

_basket of figs. Spill your wine. That hard nugget of pain, I would suck it, cradling it on my tongue like the slick seed of pomegranate. I would lift it tenderly, as a great animal might carry a small one in the private cave of the mouth_.

-- _**Basket Of Figs, Ellen Bass **_

Integra sat at her desk in the night. She leaned back in her chair. A gloved finger traced her jaw line and her jugular from behind her. A gloved hand that she new the owner of. A hand that was sealed behind fabric and the image of a spell. Her shirt was moved, unbuttoned, as he moved his hands over her shoulders. Her carefully embroidered white dress shirt. It's stiff collar brushed away to make room for the hands. Integra leaned into it and sighed. A whisper moved her and she sat up suddenly, knocking her glass of wine to the floor. It shattered and an echo of what had been was gone.

She sat up straight and went to fix her collar. It was not undone in anyway. She moved her hand away as if it hadn't been there and went to pick up the pieces of her spilled glass. The red wine dripped from the corner of a shard and moved upward, toward the ceiling as if it didn't know better. Integra felt dizzy. She sighed.

"Alucard," she whispered and he appeared before her, quiet as a mouse.

"My Master?" he asked and he gave his great bow.

She took him in for a moment.

Waist coat.

Boots.

Long black hair.

Gloved hands. Those gloves. Those hands had been here only moments ago. She took him in.

"You called, Master?"

"I've forgotten," she grumbled and continued picking up the glass. She nicked her finger on it. Of course she did. "You may go."

"If I may…" he began and she glared at him, dropping the glass fragments into the wastebasket. Wine dripped from her hand, but the smell of blood was there too. He could taste it in the air. He looked at her desk, where her gloves laid neatly.

"No, you may not," she said and looked at him carefully. She set her hands on the desk. He watched them. "I have such a headache and you're not helping."

"Apologies, Master," he said and he took a step back, a show of her domination. She always dominated him. She always would. He bowed again. He could still smell her in the room. She didn't know it, but it was overwhelming him. It was like he was lost in a thick fog and he could see nothing. It was driving him mad at this point. It always did. Integra's blood. He could smell it at all times. Even more so in her time of heat.

Maddening.

Annoying.

Irritating.

Exasperating.

Frustrating.

Enraging.

Vexing.

Galling.

He wanted to scream at her and shake her. He wanted to bend her over and take her, trace her throat with his teeth. Never drink. Oh, no. He could not allow himself that pleasure. He could not give her that expectation. He could not provide her with the pleasure of knowing what he wants. He knew, and she thought she knew. To give her that satisfaction was enough to make his blood boil.

He wanted to overturn her basket of figs, spill her wine. He wanted to taste her. He wanted nothing else. He wanted her to pull his hair, because he wanted to snarl at her. He wanted to nip at her because he wanted that punishment. He wanted her to hit him in the face. He wanted nothing more. He was a glutton for her punishment.

He stepped forward and she looked up at him.

"Alucard, I gave you your leave."

"I want you."

Integra didn't speak. She set her pen down and looked at him. She folded her hands. A smear of red against her skin. He licked his lips.

"What?" she asked and he smirked at her.

"You heard what I said…Integra," he felt the hair stand up on her neck. The heavy feeling in her stomach. The bristle.

"What did you call me, Slave?"

"Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing," he took another step to her. She stood and walked around the length of the desk to look at him. They stood off, squared. They could have been American cowboys. Japanese Samurai.

Integra glared at him. "You want me? Come and take me. If you dare, Vampire."

He stepped forward and a hand slid around her waist. Integra made no movement. He took her close to him and pushed her chin up with his finger.

Un sărut.

A kiss.

Integra returned it. He pulled away.

"You didn't fight," he smirked.

"No. I didn't. I gave you what you wanted, now please if you would leave me to my work," Integra said and spun out of his grasp, walking toward her desk.

Alucard snarled. "Gave me what I wanted? Jezebel!" he insisted and she spun around to glare at him.

Integra stalked back up to her pet and hit him across the face. He turned slowly to look back at his master and then took her under the arms, lifting her into a kiss. She kissed back as he moved her to the desk, knocking a lamp over and breaking it. She pulled his hair. He snarled at her as he pulled her cloths from her bones. She tugged his hair and forced his head back, revealing his throat to her. She ripped his tie off and tossed it aside.

Integra ripped his waistcoat off and heard the buttons clatter to the tile floor. He glared at her as he did the same for her clothes. Integra kicked him in the thigh as he pulled her shirt open with such force that it ripped and sent the buttons flying. He growled and snarled at her as he continued. She hit him across the face again to silence him.

Then, came the pants and they were moving against one another on the desk. They bit and spit and tugged at each other as violently as possible and when it was all done they laid on her desk, Integra straddling the vampire. She sat up on him and looked down into his face. She glared, even though they had just made love. But on her desk! They weren't animals for God's sake!

"You're nasty," she told him and he laughed his deep throaty laugh. "A demon. An evil creature!"

"That's what all the girls say. Did I overturn your basket of figs?" he asked and she frowned at him as he sat up on his elbows.

"Yes, I think you did, Vampire."


End file.
